


Worse Things

by Takada_Saiko



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: AU 3.14, Bromance, F/M, Gen, Tessler - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2016-03-22
Packaged: 2018-05-28 11:22:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6327025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Takada_Saiko/pseuds/Takada_Saiko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU for 3.14. Tom falls through a different window and chooses to trust Liz's partner in dire circumstances.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worse Things

Notes: So this little story was sparked by conversation between AlyB123 (on FFN)/ AlyBlacklist over on Tumblr after 3.14 when Tom/Jacob came tumbling through that window and we got a kick out of the idea of what would have happened if he'd gone to Ressler's place instead of a stranger's. The plot bunny wouldn't leave me alone, so I jotted down the story. I hadn't posted it yet because she said that she was working on her version as well and I wanted to make sure she was able to put it up first. I really recommend popping over to her FFN account and checking it out. It's called Intervention.

Anyway, I had a friend of mine read this and she has been pushing me to go ahead and post it anyway, so here we go. Because the plot bunny wouldn't let go :P

* * *

 

**Worse Things**

It was amazing how little security a building like Ressler's had. Jacob didn't need a mirror to know he looked like hell. His hands were trembling as he worked the makeshift lock pick into the keyhole, the blood on his fingers making it slick and he dropped it twice, nearly falling himself the second time he bent to pick it up and the world spun dangerously.

The lock finally clicked and he fumbled to get the door open and slipped inside. He had actually passed an apartment with a window open on the way there. He should have just gotten in and done what he could to patch himself up there, but something had taken him to Donald Ressler's place. It was stupid. The man wasn't his biggest fan, but he did think that the Boy Scout was more likely to have a decent medical kit and maybe at least marginally less likely to call the cops on him for breaking and entering.

Jacob barely got the door closed behind him before his right leg buckled under him, the bullet moving around inside it bringing him to the ground hard. Well, if Ressler was home, it wouldn't take him long to hear that. He waited there, doing his best to keep his eyes open and pull together the strength he would need to get to his feet again. First he needed water. He was bleeding out, and dehydration was something he could fight against fairly easily. Water, then something to dig the bullet out. He wondered if Ressler still kept a stash of painkillers somewhere. Supposedly he was clean these days, but everyone had secrets.

Slowly, painfully, he worked himself back up to his feet and stumbled to dig through the cabinets and find what he needed. Scissors to cut through the duct tape he had fastened around his injuries to try to stem the blood flow, one of the stronger bottles of liquor Ressler kept at his bar, and finally he limped his way into the bathroom and slumped down hard once he found the first aid kit. The room was spinning and tilting by that point, but he knocked back a couple of over the counter painkillers and took a shot of the whisky he had grabbed. He set the bottle down on the floor and leaned back against the bathtub, grimacing hard as he started to struggle out of his jacket.

His breathing was hitched and his hands were trembling so badly he wasn't sure he could do what needed to be done. Slowly, though, he started cutting through the tape and ripped his blood soaked jeans a little wider opened at the point where the bullet had torn them and his leg up. He was reaching for the first aid kit when he heard the sound of the door swinging open outside the bathroom. Well, it looked like Ressler was home. At least he hoped it was Ressler. That would really suck if the guy had some girlfriend or something that Jacob didn't know about.

It couldn't have been hard to follow the trail of blood, and just a few moments later the FBI agent rounded the corner with his gun drawn. Blue eyes widened a little in recognition. "Tom? What the hell?" he managed.

"I've had a bad day," the former operative managed. "And have been shot at enough. Could you not add to it?"

Ressler lowered the gun slowly and looked around. He wasn't stupid, no matter how much Jacob may have mocked him for it. "How bad?" he asked, pulling out a cell phone from his pocket.

"No," Jacob breathed. "No hospitals. I just… need to...to get the bullet out. Can you switch the light on?"

Ressler looked at him like he was insane but did it anyway. "Damn," he breathed. "What happened?"

"Trusted the wrong person," Jacob managed and he heard the other man snort.

"And you gave me hell over who I trusted? My guess is that you _knew_ you weren't doing the right thing."

"I was doing what I had to," Jacob snapped, finally reaching for the tweezers as Ressler closed the toilet lid and took a seat on it. He was silent as the dark haired man steeled himself to start digging around for the bullet. Blood poured fresh from the wound and he squeezed his eyes shut, the end of the tweezers finding something more solid and latching on. He loosed the breath he hadn't known he was holding as the tweezers dropped from his hand.

He hadn't seen or heard Ressler move, but suddenly he was knelt down next to him, a clean rag in hand and pouring antiseptic on it. "This is going to hurt," he warned and pressed it against his leg.

Jacob yelped, and if he had been anywhere near unconsciousness, he was pulled back instantly. He reared back, barely stopping before he slammed too hard into the tub behind him. "Ow."

"With the cocktail in your system I figured you weren't feeling a lot. You leave me any whiskey?"

Dark blue eyes narrowed in a dangerous glare. "Yeah, keep cracking the jokes as I bleed out over here, funny man. Don't guess you have some of your old stash hidden around here somewhere? Legitimate painkillers work a lot better." He leaned back hard, thumping against the tub and finally cracked an eye open when he didn't receive a jab back in return.

"Get out."

"Huh?"

"You show up here after getting into some kind of trouble, bleeding all over my floor and expecting me _not_ to call the paramedics so that it doesn't get logged into the system that someone shot you, and that's where you want to go?" He snorted and stood. "Get out of my apartment or I'll call the cops and just have them arrest you for a B &E."

Jacob's temper boiled. It had been a while since things had gone quite this wrong, and the last thing he had patience for was Donald Ressler and his holier than thou attitude. "Listen, man, you have no idea what's going on, so it wouldn't kill you to can some of your almighty judgment, okay? I'm going." He started to try to get up, but barely got started before his body gave, dropping him back to the floor and pulling a pained sound out of him.

Ressler was fuming as he stood over Jacob now. "You're really something else. Liz is pregnant with your kid and you're still off playing spy. You better pick a side, Keen, because if you don't she's the one that's going to get hurt. Her and that kid."

Jacob stared at him, his anger subsiding a little, and he was not sure if the sinking feeling was due to the words or the blood loss. Probably both. Ressler wasn't wrong, and Jacob hated that. It was something he had been doing his best to push back to the back of his mind since he saw the guns come up and he didn't find cover quite quick enough. For anything worthwhile there was sacrifice, and he had thought his last job with Gina was that. One last risk to set he, Liz, and their child for life. It had seemed worth it, but now as he sat on the cool tile of Donald Ressler's bathroom, his blood everywhere but where it should be, he knew how stupid it had been. Given that or the impossible fight against Reddington, though, he wasn't sure what the better alternative would have been. All he'd wanted to do was protect them.

"Hey?" Ressler called gruffly, nudging him and Jacob groaned. "Don't die on my floor."

"Trying not to," he managed, realizing that his eyes had drifted closed while he'd been turning Ressler's words over. "Listen, I just need… need to slow the bleeding and I'll leave. I'll be out of your hair."

"And take whatever trouble you're in to Liz's doorstep?"

"No… I'll call her and tell her I'll be a few more days. This'll blow over pretty fast. I just…"

Jacob hadn't realized he was tilting until he felt Ressler pulling him back upright. "Damn. Listen, you've got to get to a hospital. You're not going to make it if you don't."

The dark haired man snorted. "Would've thought that you'd think that was better."

The expression Ressler wore was one that Jacob wasn't accustomed to. "I lost my dad. I don't wish that on Liz's kid. Even if that dad is you." He swallowed hard and his focus was behind him rather than on him. "You can be a decent human being, you just choose not to most of the time. Or maybe it's a habit for you not to be. I don't know. The point is, you gained nothing from talking me down from killing Solomon, and you did it anyway."

"You'd've regretted it," Jacob managed drowsily.

"Exactly. That didn't do anything for you. It was… You _can_ be decent. If you could just keep doing stuff like that, and not stuff like _this_ -" he motioned to the blood everywhere - "maybe that kid has a chance at knowing their dad… and maybe if their dad deserving to know them."

Jacob looked up at his ex wife's partner, the pain and blood loss loosening his tongue. "She's… Liz is thinking of giving the kid up. I just wanted… a way out for us. Reddington's shutting down my job opportunities and I thought Gina could-"

"Gina? Stop. Right now. I don't _want_ to know. Damn you're stupid."

Jacob snorted a soft laugh. "Yeah. Maybe. Probably. I just don't know what to do now." He sighed, feeling a little like he was floating. "Just want them safe."

Ressler pulled in a breath and Jacob felt his hand on his uninjured shoulder, gently pulling him back around. "First things first. We get you to a doctor and then… Whatever you pulled on out at the cabin - that part of you that's the one time I haven't wanted to break your face? - you figure out what that is and do that."

"She's going to be so pissed at me."

"Liz? Yeah, and she should be."

"I know." His gaze drifted up to meet Ressler's. "I really do love her."

The federal agent snorted. "She sure seems to think so. For her sake, I hope you do." He pulled out his cell phone and dialed, giving the address for what Jacob assumed was an ambulance. It looked like it was time to start coming up with a story on what happened. He just hoped he remembered it when he woke up.

"Tom? Dammit, Tom. Don't pass out. Hey?" Jacob could feel Ressler shaking him, but there was a strange sort of disconnect. He knew it was happening, but it felt so far away. "Think about Liz. About your kid. Selfish idiot, don't you dare make me explain to her that you're dead. Don't you _dare_ hurt her again."

Jacob struggled to open his eyes, but he had already slipped too far. He wasn't sure why he had chosen to trust Ressler, and once he was feeling better he was sure he'd never admit to it, but he was glad he did. As he slipped, Ressler lobbing idle threats his way to try to rouse him, he hoped that he hadn't ruined everything.

* * *

The man had as many lives as a damn cat. Donald Ressler was about sure of that as he stood at the doorway of the hospital room where Tom Keen was sleeping. Liz sat in a chair, her hand holding his and she looked like she had been up all night with him. Ressler had weighed the decision back and forth on if he should let her know or not, and had finally decided that she would find out anyway and it was better if it came from him. They had been in a strange sort of no-man's land since she had been released and even if he couldn't quite bring himself to say it, her friendship meant everything to him and she deserved a friend in her corner after everything she had been through. He couldn't say he supported hers and Tom's… whatever it was they called what they were doing, because _relationship_ seemed like too simple of a term for those two, but he could stand beside her and make sure that, at least if she got hurt, it wouldn't be because Donald Ressler hadn't given it his all to protect her. Anyway, she deserved to know that the father of her child was in the hospital.

"Hey. How long have you been standing there?"

He glanced over, torn from his thoughts, and offered her a shrug. "Just a minute. You look like you could use a break."

"I don't want to leave him alone," she murmured and Ressler watched her expression tighten in worry.

"I've got this. He can't be any more trouble than he was when he showed up bleeding all over my apartment. This is the easy part."

She managed a smile for the tease. "Thank you, Ress," she said as she stood, but she paused, and on what looked like impulse reached out and squeezed his hand. "For everything. Thank you."

"Yeah," he answered awkwardly and tried for a smile of his own. "I'll call you if anything changes. Take your time."

He watched her walk out of the room, slow and a little stiff, only encouraging the theory that she'd been there for a long while. He took the seat she had vacated and looked at the man that had been married to her. Funny, but it seemed like a lifetime ago that Liz had been bugging him to come over and have dinner at their townhouse, going on and on about how Tom didn't understand how to cook small portions and there was always more than enough any time he wanted to drop by… Even then he hadn't liked him. He hadn't been sure why, but now he knew. At least now things made more sense.

Blue eyes slid slowly open, the glazed look in them showing just how heavily medicated the dark haired man was and they flickered over to look at Ressler. Confusion passed through them, as if his mind was having trouble working through the fog of painkillers.

"You're in the hospital, and as soon as you get out you owe me for whatever it's going to cost to scrub your blood off my floor," Ressler said by way of greeting.

Tom shifted, wincing as he did. "Liz?" he asked, voice rough.

"She looked like she could use a few minutes to stretch her legs, so I offered to sit in."

He nodded slowly. "You going to arrest me?"

"Do I have a reason to?"

"No."

Ressler was pretty sure that was a lie, but he let it slide. "You look like hell. How're you feeling?"

"Like hell," Tom managed. "I guess I should thank you for getting me here?"

"Normal people do say thank you when someone saves their life, yeah."

"Is that what normal people do? I never knew."

Ressler rolled his eyes. "Well, near death experiences don't seem to have an affect on your sarcasm."

"Part of my charm," Tom chuckled, settling deeper into his pillows and his eyes fluttered so they were nearly closed. Ressler thought he might have drifted off again until he spoke, the words so soft that he almost missed them. "Thank you."

The FBI agent shifted awkwardly in his chair, the serious tone not something he had really expected. It was easier for both men to lob insults, to keep that barrier of distrust firmly between them. Otherwise he might see something in Tom Keen like he had at the cabin. He might see the human somehow working his way out of the layers of lies and deceit that he'd put on himself during years as a covert operative, and Ressler wasn't sure he was ready for that. He hadn't decided if he thought the man _could_ change after so long, much less that he was.

He found Tom's hazy gaze fixed on him and he pursed his lips together. "Yeah, well," he answered awkwardly, "I wasn't just going to let you bleed out. Guess it's just those damn principles of mine."

Tom snorted a laugh. "Who knew, right? Seriously, though. You could have called the cops or arrested me yourself, but you didn't. Thanks."

"I don't know exactly what mess you've gotten yourself into, Tom, but… Liz deserves to know. She deserves all the facts so she can make the best decision she can for her and that kid. You owe her that."

"I know." He grimaced, looking like he was fighting the medication trying to drag him back to sleep.

Ressler sighed. "Stop fighting it. Your body needs to heal."

He received only the barest of nods as Tom seemed to drift back to sleep and Ressler shook his head. After everything, he didn't think he could ever fully support the idea of Liz and Tom together, but if he wasn't careful, his partner's ex husband was going to start looking like a man struggling to do better than the dangerous ex-assassin that Ressler knew him to be. It was harder to see him that way after the last twenty-four hours or so.

"Hey, any change?" Liz asked as she walked in, a coffee in either hand. She handed one to him.

"Thanks. He woke up for a few minutes, but he's back out."

"He's been doing that."

"Starting to worry about your ex, Liz. He actually thanked me for saving his life," Ressler tried for a teasing remark and, thankfully, received the smile from her that he had been aiming for.

"He's drugged. I think it makes him a little more honest."

Ressler snorted and stood so she could have her seat back. She took it readily and sipped on what he hoped was decaf coffee, her gaze seeking his out. "I think he respects you more than he'll ever admit. He told me what happened out at the cabin and I know he went to you at first to try to get your help when I was on the run. He… I think Tom has been playing so many parts for so long that he has trouble knowing exactly who he can trust with things that really matter. This whole fiasco isn't going to help with that, but… he went to you when he needed help. That says a lot."

"So what now? We become BFF's?" Ressler grumbled, the sarcasm drenching each word.

Liz rolled her eyes. "I doubt either of you could put your pride aside enough for that, but… he could use a friend like you. You know, a decent guy that's not going to get him shot."

"You're serious?"

She shrugged and turned her gaze back on her sleeping ex-husband. "If he really wants to be better, he has to start making changes somewhere."

"I think you're putting too much faith in him."

"I just know him a little better than you do," Liz offered with a small smile.

In the bed, Tom started to stir again and Ressler loosed a breath. "I'll give you guys some time. Just… Be careful, alright, Liz? The last thing I want to see is you to get hurt again."

Liz watched him for a long moment. "I will be. Careful, I mean."

He gave a firm nod, feeling the moment linger awkwardly. "And get some rest. It's bad for the baby if you're up all night worrying. He'll be fine. He's too stubborn to die anyway." He didn't wait for her to respond, but heard her laugh follow him out the door. He would watch her back, because that's what partners and friends did, and if that somehow turned into some bizarre friendship with her ex… Well, he supposed things could turn out a lot worse.


End file.
